


Déjà vu Means You've Already Seen, But Perhaps You've Really Just Forgotten

by InfiniteInMystery



Series: October 2020 Spooks [6]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bad end, Crying, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gintoki's Just Doing His Best, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Destruction, who dun it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInMystery/pseuds/InfiniteInMystery
Summary: From the perspective of seven friends, Gintoki's caught crying. Over the course of several months, his mental health has been deteriorating, and his excuses for the bruises are starting to sound like a skipping record. His friends have no idea who's doing this to him.Except they do.
Relationships: Mystery Character/Sakata Gintoki
Series: October 2020 Spooks [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950559
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	Déjà vu Means You've Already Seen, But Perhaps You've Really Just Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6: Crying

_**[April 7]** _ _**Otose** _

Otose felt like this wasn't the first time it had happened to Gintoki, but it was the first time she had caught him. For some reason, Otose felt like she was having deja vu.

It was early as hell, sometime after three, closer to four. The shop had been closed for some time and the girls had both retreated to bed like any rational human being. But for some reason, Otose hadn't been able to sleep. She had been tossing and turning, had finally sighed in annoyance, and got up for a smoke. She had known Gintoki was out, had been having suspicions about him lately, his behavior reminding her of the bad old days. His skulky behavior, his sudden need to lurk, the lack of light in his eyes again, they all tipped Otose off, made her think twice about him. Perhaps that was why she had woken up? Fate, and all that?

Perhaps it was because she was hidden around the corner that he actually came. Perhaps he would have waited if he had seen her in the distance, would have hidden out in the shadows until she went back inside. But theories aside, she was lucky she had been there leaning against the wall of the alley, one with the shadows, and that he had walked by briskly like he was late for something. She saw him clearly right as he saw her, the back of his white yukata stained with dirt and grease as he passed by without even faltering, his eyes open but empty.

While it wasn't uncommon for Gintoki to be out late, to come back at the break of dawn smelling like booze and cheap perfume, it was extremely uncommon for Gintoki to come back home _crying._

“Hey.” Otose called out as he briskly passed her by. He paused with a single foot on the stairs, his hands limp at his sides, but he didn't turn her way.

“Come here.” Otose moved out from the alley, smoke still trailing from her cigarette held out by her side, but she didn't walk any further than her front door. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed knowing that Gintoki needed to come to her, if he wanted to come at all. Chasing him wouldn't help either of them, chasing him would send him further down the rabbit hole than he needed to be.

Gintoki glanced her way with his head down, bangs shielding his eyes. She couldn't see his expression, but his mouth was pulled into a tense, thin line, tears tracking their way down to his jaw. He had a black mark on his cheek like he had been slapped, if not punched, the corner of his lip bleeding.

“Gintoki?” Otose called when he didn't move.

“It's fine.” Gintoki said. His voice was light, shaky. He turned away instead of coming to her, mounting the stairs one at a time. Otose looked after him, but the next morning when he came back downstairs, laughing with Kagura and sending her a sheepish smile in apology, she didn't question him. It wasn't like this was the _first_ time he had gotten into a bar fight, probably wouldn't be the last either. But still, something sat uncomfortable inside of her, her eyes lingering on her boy every time she got to see him, wondering, worrying. _Is that a new bruise on his arm? Are his lips just chapped now or is that another split lip?_ _Is he losing weight?_

 _He's_ _always been_ _sad, after all. He'll be okay._

_**[April 22] Kagura** _

It was normal for Gintoki to fall asleep in the middle of the day. Kagura had never understood _why_ Gintoki slept as much as he did – probably because he was out all night drinking most of the time, right? – but she did know that if they were lazing around on the couches in the middle of the day and she turned on a show, chances were, Gintoki would pass out at some point during it.

It wasn’t a problem. It was normal. However, what _was_ a problem was that sometimes, when Gintoki napped, he suffered.

Sadaharu noticed first. Kagura saw the Inugami move, but she didn't pry her eyes from the screen. She shoved some more pickled seaweed into her mouth as Sadaharu got up, moving to Gintoki's side of the couch and turned his little puppy eyes on Kagura, silently _staring_. Sadaharu stared so hard that Kagura couldn't help but glance over and glare at him in annoyance because his gaze felt louder and more annoying than if he had just barked at her.

And that was when she noticed it.

Gintoki was curled up on his side, cuddling his JUMP like a weirdo. His hair was fluffy and messy as usual, eyes shut for an impromptu cat nap. But his cheeks were damp, tears heavily flowing from between his eyelids and sliding down over marks from another bar fight he hadn't wanted to talk about. He wasn't sniffling or groaning, wasn't awake at all. So Kagura simply got up and did what she knew best. She went into the kitchen, and chugged back all the orange juice out of the carton, filling her stomach up with the sweet, citrus goodness, saving herself from eating more pickled seaweed for the rest of the afternoon. She hid the now empty carton in the recycle bin after, made sure it was closer to the bottom than the top and buried by Gintoki's milk cartons. Then she went back to the fridge, opened the door, took a deep breath, and yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Gin-channnn!” She yelled loud enough for Otose to hear her downstairs, smashing the fridge door closed while she did it. “Gin-channnnn! You didn't do groceries again!”

It worked, just as expected.

Gintoki yawned as he sauntered into the kitchen a few moments later, his face completely dry but his eyes only cracked slightly open from exhaustion. They were red-rimmed, but he would excuse it for being disturbed in his sleep. This man really did have an excuse for everything, didn't he?

“What? Didn't I?” Gintoki asked. “The orange juice? I bought orange juice.”

“You bought milk and more milk!” Kagura said, opening their full fridge once again to show him the contents. “But you didn't buy me any juice!”

Gintoki groaned, sliding beside her to glance into the fridge. He looked confused, one hand slapping to his forehead. “Did I get milk?”

“No!” Kagura yelled, and she grabbed the milk carton too, opening it and taking a big swig. “Guess you gotta go to the store now, aru! A walk might clear that brain of yours and maybe you'll remember the better things! Like milk! And to go pick up your bike from that lousy mechanic so we can drive to the store! I'm so tired of walking!”

She glanced over, and Gintoki wasn't even upset that she was drinking his milk. It didn't really look like he cared. If anything, his eyes only dulled a little more, and Kagura wondered if maybe she should offer to go instead. _But he was having a bad dream again..._

Gintoki simply yawned and stood up straight, placing his hand on her head and ruffling her hair to the point she would have to fix it. _Again_. He didn't take his hand back as he yawned yet again, and Kagura let him have the contact for a few seconds longer. He had been doing this thing lately with his hands, reaching out for her head usually, excusing it as praise or teasing, his hands lingering like he didn't want to let go. _Is he sick?_ She had thought, when she had realized he had been a little more clingy than usual. _Or is he just sad?_

It seemed to help him. Reminded her of the plushy Kagura used to hug when she missed her first bunny, Sadaharu. She knew Gintoki wouldn't hug her unless Kagura hugged him first, wondered if he secretly needed it but was too afraid to ask even though she wanted to.

“Okay, I'll go.” Gintoki said, before turning around and leaving their apartment.

Kagura watched him go from the front balcony, a small knot of worry in her chest. Sadaharu sat at her side, his nose pushing into her elbow with a soft whine. But she turned around and went back inside to finish her show.

_He's an adult. Adults know how to sort out their problems._

_**[May 10] Shinpachi** _

Shinpachi was used to stopping by Odd Jobs early in the morning, even if Kagura was sick and at his house so his sister could take care of her. Sometimes, Shinpachi did it just to check in with Gintoki, to make sure Gintoki himself was okay, because the man was just a giant baby after all. He needed all the care and supervision he could get, lest he just drink himself into a coma and collapse in the street. And without Kagura around? Surely he got lonely, right?

Which Shinpachi didn't want to think about. He hoped he and Kagura were doing enough for Gintoki, to pay him back for everything he silently did for them, not realizing they noticed.

So climbing the steps to Odd Jobs really wasn't odd that early morning. Shinpachi let himself in, but he didn't yell his announcement like he usually would, content with silently sneaking in and maybe cooking breakfast for Gintoki to eat later. Gintoki was probably still asleep after all, so Shinpachi locked up behind him and took off his shoes.

He tip-toed past the bathroom into the kitchen to set down the bag of groceries he had brought with him, when Gintoki came out of the bathroom and rounded the corner.

“Oh! Gin-san, you're up-” Shinpachi paused, eyes suddenly wide and mouth hanging open. He wasn't sure if his prescription was suddenly off, but he held back the need to rub his eyes to make sure that he was _really_ seeing what he was seeing.

Gintoki froze, his wide red-rimmed eyes landing on Shinpachi. His face was wet, eyes glassy. His skin was pale, molted green and black marks glowing on his pale arms that morning, looking worse than usual. He laughed, quickly walking past Shinpachi to stick his face into the fridge.

“Allergies suck ass.” Gintoki said, grabbing a carton of his favorite milk and taking a swig straight from it. He didn't bother turning around.

“Language.” Shinpachi chastised, but he crossed his arms over his chest, worry eating at him that something wasn't quite right here. Something hadn't been right for a while, but perhaps… this was the new normal. “Gin-san… are you alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Gintoki asked. His voice sounded normal, and he wiped his mouth off with his sleeves after sneakily wiping his face off first. Shinpachi didn't miss it, and when Gintoki turned back around, Shinpachi was horrified to see how fast Gintoki could go from crying and miserable to his normal self, not a single trace of the tears left behind except the redness in his eyes.

How many times had Gintoki blamed his eyes on being hungover? How many times had he cried under this roof with the kids nearby and then spoke to them like everything was fine? Suddenly, Shinpachi realized that if Gintoki had been easily crying under this roof, suffering and excusing it, it was very likely his recent bad luck at the bars was a lie too. _It is a lie. I know it. I just don't know why I know and why I keep ignoring it._

“Gin-san.” Shinpachi said. He knew they teased him for being the mother hen and a giant worrywart, but Gintoki and Kagura were so bad at expressing themselves that _someone_ had to do it. “Were you crying?”

Gintoki laughed at his bluntness, taking another sip of his milk. He closed the fridge, leaning against the counter, his eyes veering off to Shinpachi's shoulder as he contemplated how to respond. Honesty was the best policy, but Shinpachi worried for a second that Gintoki would lie straight to his face.

Shinpachi almost cried in anticipation.

“And if I was?” Gintoki asked, his eyes meeting Shinpachi's, his voice mystical like he wanted Shinpachi to learn and understand something here. He didn't sound upset about the question, didn't sound like he was dodging it either.

“Then...” Shinpachi trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing, suddenly realizing Gintoki's point here. _And if he was? What do I say? Do I offer him help?_ _Ask what happened?_ _Help for what?_ “If you were, I...”

Gintoki chuckled. He turned back to the fridge and put his milk away. “Shinpachi. Sometimes when you want to help but you don't know how, the most helpful thing you can really do is to just be there.”

“Huh?” Shinpachi asked. He tried to understand, wondered if Gintoki was just tricking him into leaving him alone, but at the same time, the words struck him as meaningful. “So...”

“Don't ask if I don't offer.” Gintoki said. He closed the fridge and turned around. He smiled at the groceries, moving over to take them. “The regular things are enough.”

And with that Gintoki asked Shinpachi to help him put the groceries away, and asked him to help him write down their jobs for the week, to make sure Gintoki was organized and had a schedule, lest he forget everything within the next hour.

Shinpachi noticed that Gintoki was smiling, but it wasn't reaching his eyes. And Shinpachi noticed that Gintoki's right wrist was bruised now, a black ring encircling his thin wrist, but Gintoki's earlier lesson came back to him and he didn't ask about it.

And the next time Shinpachi caught him crying – just hardly, he almost missed it – Shinpachi made sure he was there to help Gintoki do the regular things. Helped Gintoki clean off his desk, helped organize him for the week. And when Shinpachi bought him extra milk that week, Gintoki's mood perked considerably.

_The regular things are enough._

_**[May 27] Sakamoto** _

Sakamoto was a few brain cells shy of a load, or so people liked to tell him, but he could tell when a friend was feeling down. Really down. Like really, really, _really_ down.

Gintoki wasn't the happiest man Sakamoto had ever met, had never been, but recently, he was definitely striving to be the saddest. It was obvious that Gintoki hadn't been sleeping, was obvious that something was bothering Gintoki, setting him on edge. He had been annoyed with Sakamoto the second they had left together, had turned around to go straight home but relented when Sakamoto practically begged him to stay.

“What's your problem, Kintoki?” Sakamoto yelled over the crowd. They were in another bar, Sakamoto's favorite one on Earth, drinking expensive beer on Sakamoto's dime. Mutsu would chastise him later once she found out how much he had spent, but he didn't really care. What he cared about was how sad Gintoki seemed across from him, and how shut off Gintoki was with _Sakamoto_ specifically.

Gintoki might have shut down emotionally with Katsura and Takasugi, but Gintoki had never closed off so much to Sakamoto.

“Kintoki?” Sakamoto asked, making sure his tone was as annoying as possible.

“Don't call me that. And I don't have a problem.” Gintoki said glumly. He took another swig of his beer, his eyes downcast. There was a bruise around his wrist, a nice, perfect circle that Sakamoto had been eyeing up for the past ten minutes. Sakamoto stared at it, thinking he knew where it came from, but really had no idea at all.

“Do _you_ have a problem?” Gintoki asked, catching Sakamoto staring.

“Ahahaha, nope!” Sakamoto yelled. He scooted around the U-booth to Gintoki's side so that he could hear better. He tucked in closer to Gintoki, offering him warmth and silliness like every other time they met up. “Zura's been complaining about how moody you are, so I figured I'd see for myself, Ahaha! Guess he wasn’t wrong for worrying!”

“Well, fuck Zura.” Gintoki said bitterly into his bottle. He had been drinking faster than Sakamoto, drinking faster than normal to be honest, seemed eager to be drunk and throwing up his stomach contents. Sakamoto wasn't going to bring it up, but he would try to slow Gintoki down at least. Pace him a little better.

“I'd like too. Doubt he'd let me.” Sakamoto laughed, because at the end of the day he would get into bed with anyone, wouldn't he? He didn't have any standards and that was the problem with him, wasn't it? “But I've told you all about my life recently, sailing the black space and the stars! And what about you? You haven't said anything yet!”

“I've got nothing to say.” Gintoki said. This was probably why Gintoki didn't want to come out in the first place; Gintoki didn't want to talk. But Sakamoto knew alcohol usually loosened Gintoki's lips, gave him the courage to be open.

But this time, there was something _wrong._

Gintoki slammed his bottle down with a heavy sigh, his eyes glued to the table. Sakamoto scooted a little closer so that their hips were flush together, and he glanced down. He was going to place his hand on Gintoki's shoulder, but didn't want to push his luck right now. Gintoki was one bad comment from leaving.

“Oh, well someone's _really_ moody. Guess Zura wasn't joking. I think you need some more alcohol and maybe some fatty snacks, yeah?” Sakamoto laughed into his bottle, placing it back to his lips. But he paused, his eyes catching on a dark mark on the back of Gintoki's neck. It looked like a bruise, looked like the other marks Sakamoto had spied littering Gintoki's pale skin.

“I didn't come out for you to whine about my presence. If you don't want me here, I'll just go home.” Gintoki complained. And when he glanced Sakamoto's way, Sakamoto couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. How exhausted. Sakamoto tilted his head, his eyes dropping down to Gintoki's neck, noticing another bruise on his throat, just above the vein. Sakamoto blinked, suddenly getting deja vu, suddenly feeling like he forgot something really important.

“Kin-chan?” Sakamoto asked. He pried his eyes from the mark before shoving his hand into his pockets, whipping out more cash. “Stop being a party-pooper and go get us more beers.”

“Stop with the dumb nickname.” Gintoki groaned. He snapped the cash out of Sakamoto's hands and crawled out of the booth. He looked too moody to be out, but Sakamoto was glad he had stayed.

Sakamoto watched him go, his eyes on Gintoki's back as he sauntered over to the bar. Regardless of how much time Sakamoto had spent in space, he couldn't help but notice Gintoki's posture, how he awkwardly carried himself past people, trying not to look small but also not as confident and boisterous as he once was. It was like he didn't want to be seen, which was normal, just he was going to extra lengths to do so. Sakamoto placed a finger to his lips, blue eyes narrowed after Gintoki's frame. He was used to Katsura worrying, but he had rarely reported back to Katsura, had rarely taken Gintoki out with the intent to blab about what Gintoki said the moment Gintoki was home, tucked in bed. Perhaps this time might be a good time to share what he was learning? To conspire behind Gintoki's back for his own sake?

When Gintoki came back, Sakamoto scooted up real close again, taking the bottles from Gintoki's hands, forcing Gintoki to look at him without distracting himself.

“Well?” Sakamoto asked, eyebrows waggling.

“Well, what?” Gintoki asked, and he sounded annoyed. He huffed, those red eyes so tired and dull.

“Well are you going to sit here and be miserable company and take advantage of my money,” Sakamoto asked, “or are you going to sit here and be miserable company, take advantage of my money _and_ use me as a therapist?”

Gintoki huffed, turned his face away as he leaned back in the booth. “I don't need a therapist. Can I have my drink?”

“Gin-chaaaaaan.” Sakamoto whined, knowing that using his proper name and drawling it out long and annoyingly would eventually work. “I can't just sit here and let you be all sad. This is the part where you turn to me and cry on my shoulder sobbing _'Tatsuma, the neighbor's wife left me for a younger man!'_ ”

“Who are you, Zura?” Gintoki asked. “And no. I'm not crying on your shoulder, I've had enough of that.”

Sakamoto reached out, his hand on Gintoki's wrist, just above the bruise. _I've had enough of that._ Perhaps Gintoki's sadness ran deeper than Sakamoto had originally suspected. “Gintoki, if you need anything, I can and will help you. You know that.”

“I know.” Gintoki said. He dropped his head into his hand, still not looking Sakamoto's way. He reached out for his beer. Sakamoto let him take it.

“There's nothing you can do.” Gintoki said, and he sounded so _sure,_ so _defeated._

“Is it the kids?” Sakamoto asked gently. “Are they okay?”

“They're fine.” Gintoki said. He pulled his hand from Sakamoto's, his sleeve riding up in the process. There was a massive mark high on his forearm, the center black but the edges already green and yellow. Gintoki shook out his sleeve casually, but Sakamoto caught his arm again. These were signs Sakamoto was familiar with, warnings and evasive behaviors Sakamoto knew about first hand.

“What was that?” Sakamoto asked, his hand gentle around Gintoki's wrist. “Gintoki, where did you get that?”

“It's nothing.” Gintoki said, but when he turned Sakamoto's way, his eyes were wet. “Okay? You? And Zura? Can you guys stop bothering me about it? It's fine. It'll be fine.”

“Oh, Gin-chan!” Sakamoto yelled, throwing his arms around Gintoki's shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. “Gin-chan, it's okay! Is someone hurting you? Is it Takasugi? I will shoot down his ship if I have to, that bastard borrowed half my fancy toolset for all my special Amanto parts and now he won't give it back!”

“No, I'm fine.” Gintoki said, and it almost sounded like a lie. His voice was low, sad.

“Takasugi?” Sakamoto asked again, to clarify. Because if there was one person who would hurt Gintoki and then come back for more, it was Takasugi.

“No, I haven't seen that bastard at all.” Gintoki said with a small, sad laugh. “It's okay, Tatsuma. I'll… I'm just… I'm just… tired...”

“Okay.” Sakamoto said, because he knew Gintoki wouldn't give him anything else. He rocked Gintoki in his arms, let him squeeze out a few tears before Sakamoto started them in on the hard liquor.

“You're too good, do you know that?” Sakamoto asked. Because it was true.

_He always gets hurt protecting others. He's good-natured, always sticking his neck out to protect people. He has people to care for him, people to lift him up. He'll be okay._

_**[June 19] Katsura** _

Katsura had been noticing the changes. It had started a few months ago, not that Katsura had a calendar in his bedroom dedicated to his run-ins with Gintoki, oh no. It had just started with Gintoki's bad attitude, but lately, it had evolved into something else entirely.

“Gintoki!” Katsura greeted cheerily as he approached. He had seen the kids run by some time ago, had stopped them to greet them and _snoop_. They had complained Gintoki was hungover, and that they had left him behind in a park. And so there Katsura was, in that park, on the bench shaded from the very hot sun by several trees, one miserable Samurai leaning his head back over the back of the bench, his arms draped over the back casually,

Gintoki only groaned in response, his head tilted to the sky, his eyes closed.

Katsura sat down beside him, his focus instantly locked on the purple ring encompassing Gintoki's throat. He swallowed thickly, eyes trailing down Gintoki's exposed skin, his arms littered with little bruises, his wrists encircled with black. The bruises visible were all in various shades of healing, the bruises seeming to double as the weeks went on.

Whatever this was, whatever it was going on in Gintoki's life behind closed doors, Katsura had grossly underestimated it.

“Gintoki.” Katsura said, his voice normal and maybe a little clipped. “Gintoki, I want to talk with you.”

“Why?” Gintoki groaned, a hand to his forehead. “Can't you see I'm hungover?”

Katsura clicked his tongue, sliding closer. He pushed Gintoki's hand out of the way and slapped the back of his hand against Gintoki's forehead. “Gintoki, what's going on with you?”

“I'm hungover is what's going on.” Gintoki said, giving Katsura lip. He already sounded annoyed, was already shutting down and closing off. “What's going on with you? Out causing trouble, as usual? I saw the police earlier, maybe you should go.”

“I don't cause trouble, I clean up the trouble the police don't bother to.” Katsura said. He huffed, removing his hand from Gintoki's face, wishing he could just reach out, could just hug the man, and promise him that everything was going to be okay.

“Gintoki, look at me.” Katsura asked, his voice a touch desperate.

“I don't want to.” Gintoki said. He sounded tired, but the admittance rang in Katsura's ears.

“Gintoki.” Katsura tried again. He grabbed Gintoki's hand, raising it, flipped it so it was palm up and the array of colors on his forearm were on display. “Where did you get these bruises?”

“A bar fight.” Gintoki said. Katsura instantly knew he was lying.

“No, you didn't-”

“Just leave it.” Gintoki snapped. He stood up, ripped his hand from Katsura's. He stood for a moment, a hand to his forehead like he was dizzy. “Just... leave it alone. Please. There's nothing you can do.”

Gintoki walked away. Katsura, brimming with frustration and concern, let him go. If Gintoki didn't want to talk, Gintoki wouldn't talk. Space would create opportunities, Katsura knew. He just… needed to give Gintoki space and hope Gintoki opened back up.

Later that night, Katsura didn't approach Gintoki the second time he saw him. Gintoki was at a stall nursing a beer, tears sliding down his face like rain trickling from the sky. But he was sobbing a story to the bartender who was only listening with half an ear, and perhaps that was what Gintoki had wanted. Wanted someone he didn't know to listen to his problems without really caring, someone he could just project his feelings at without having to face the consequences of them. Someone who wouldn't be bothered by them, who wouldn't bother him about them after.

Katsura slunk back into the darkness, disappearing back into the night. He'd leave Gintoki to his own devices and just hope he knew when it was time to step back in.

_He lives with what he did on that hill, he will find a way to live with whatever this is too. He's strong. Stronger than any man I know. He knows what he's doing._

_**[June 28] Takasugi** _

Takasugi was a lot of things, and caring wasn't one of them.

So when he was prowling the streets under the cover of darkness, spotting Gintoki leaning against the banister on that bridge was both bad news and good news. Bad news because Takasugi hated his guts and the mere sight of Gintoki made his blood boil, and good news because Takasugi now had something to take out some of his anger on, some of his pent up frustrations.

Quietly, Takasugi moved beside Gintoki, leaning forward on the banister himself, a dry cackle leaving his throat. “If I had any less restraint, I would have just pushed you in.”

Takasugi glanced over then, his smile freezing on his face in surprise because Gintoki was _crying._ Tears glinted in the moonlight, the bags under his eyes were shadows darker than Takasugi's own. Gintoki grit his teeth, turning his head away like Takasugi might not have seen. That rotten bastard. What the hell did he have to cry over?

“I'll just go.” Gintoki said, and even his voice sounded gruff. No doubt he had left his own home to get some privacy, just to be interrupted again.

Good. Gintoki didn't deserve to mourn.

Takasugi caught him by his bicep, making sure that his grip was firm and painful. Gintoki flinched, glancing slightly over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, his eyes on Takasugi's hand. He didn't look stricken, he suddenly looked normal. Faking normalcy.

“Let me go.”

“You deserve to suffer.” Takasugi said, dragging Gintoki back down to the banister. “You don't get to cry over what you've done because you knew exactly what you were doing when you did it. You made the choice. Live with the consequences.”

“I _don't_ cry over what I've done.” Gintoki snapped, turning back to Takasugi. He looked mad then, a touch hopeless. “I don't.”

“Then what is this?” Takasugi asked, his smile and eye widening, head tilting. “Remorse? Hauntings from those we've killed? Guilt? Pity? What is it that howls inside of you, _Gintoki_? What brings tears to your eyes? Tell me so I can do it to you too.”

Gintoki shook his head. He attempted to jerk his arm from Takasugi's, but Takasugi only tightened his grip. Viciously, Takasugi tugged Gintoki closer, his eye set on Gintoki's averted ones. But then Takasugi's eye slid to Gintoki's jaw, the black and yellow marks marring pale skin. And then his neck. His collar bones. Dropping his gaze further, the arm trapped between Takasugi's hand was black and blue, various shades of yellow and green glowing in the moonlight. They were handprints. Someone was laying hands on Gintoki, and Takasugi was pissed only because those marks weren't from him.

Takasugi grabbed Gintoki with both his hands, shoving Gintoki back against the banister on the bridge. It must have hurt, would probably leave a mark on Gintoki's mid-back, but Takasugi was suddenly too mad to care.

“What the fuck-” Gintoki squawked an awkward sound when Takasugi aggressively tugged the front of his shirt open, more colors dancing across Gintoki's chest. A couple of circular burns. A bite high on his shoulder, hidden just beneath the collar of his shirt.

“You don't get to cry over what you've done,” Takasugi said, instantly putting two and two together, “but you also don't get to submit just to try and make yourself feel better. Stand up-”

Gintoki slapped him. Caught him by his blindside, sending Takasugi stumbling a step away from the force of it. Takasugi gasped, his head turning slowly to face Gintoki, vision red and murder on his mind, but Gintoki was already collecting himself and fleeing in a panic.

Takasugi stood on the bridge for a few moments, his hand to his stinging cheek. Gintoki was long gone, but Takasugi was left bewildered.

 _He's my enemy to kill._ There was nothing Takasugi would do about Gintoki's personal life, but he supposed dropping an observation to the mother hen who still flocked to Gintoki's side might help his case. If Gintoki thought laying down and taking someone's abuse would earn him karma for all the shit he had done, he was terribly wrong.

_I won't tell because I care, but because I will be the one to put him down. Until then, he needs to find his blessings so I can rip them away._

_**[July 2] Hijikata** _

Hijikata wasn't oblivious. Trying to go through Yamazaki's paperwork was a nightmare lately, and it wasn't because Yamazaki was stalking Katsura like he was _supposed_ to be. They had attempted to arrest Katsura earlier in the week, but Katsura had simply turned out to be one hell of a mess and one hell of a con artist too. Somehow, Katsura's crying had gotten Yamazaki to stalk the Odd Jobs boss behind Hijikata's back, and now here Hijikata was, trying to make heads and tails of the reports.

Hijikata didn't like what he was reading.

 _Ju_ _ly 1._ _T_ _he anpan is old_ _this time_ _, I think I need to go back for a refund. 16:33: Followed Odd Jobs to the supermarket. He bought a carton of strawberry milk. A carton of orange juice. A carton of eggs. And some chocolate bars._ _They look like the kind with coffee in them._ _He took his time going through the store. Maybe he was wasting time? He had a short list, very unlikely that he was looking for things the store didn't have._ _1_ _7_ _:_ _1_ _2: Odd Jobs returned to Odd Jobs. Should I just start using his name? Would it ruin consistency? Would Hijikata be mad? Hijikata,_ _if_ _you are reading this, I'm sorry, but I'm going to start referring to Odd Jobs as Gintoki._ _18:18:_ ~~ _Odd Jobs_~~ _Gintoki snuck out from his apartment and threw up in the alley again just like yesterday. He's losing weight._ _23:44: a visitor left, but I forgot who it was. What was I doing? Good thing I have these notes. Odd Jobs is still inside. No update._

Hijikata huffed, setting the paper aside. There were so many reports for only the few days that Yamazaki had been tailing the Odd Jobs boss, and Hijikata had only found out that morning. By complete accident. Because Yamazaki had reported it when Hijikata had asked for it, assuming Yamazaki had been tailing Katsura this whole time.

_He's so dumb, but it seems he's on to something here._

Hijikata didn't know what to make of it. He'd only gone through enough to have a suspicion that something was very, _very_ wrong with his friend.

It started with a knock on his door, Hijikata not even bothering to look over his shoulder.

“Come in.” Hijikata said causally still pouring over the notes Yamazaki had given him. There was something off about it all, but Hijikata hadn't gone through enough of the notes to find out _why_ Katsura had set Yamazaki up for this. Why would Katsura, an active Joui Rebel, bring Shinsengumi attention to Gintoki, an ex Joui Rebel, who also happened to be Katsura's friend?

“Hey.” Oh shit, it was Gintoki.

“Hey.” Hijikata stared wide eyed at his papers, suddenly panicked. Did he hide them? Did he just leave them out and hoped Gintoki didn't look over his shoulder at them? Didn't read them? Hijikata casually flipped the folder closed, hiding everything he had just been looking at like he wasn't hiding it at all. He turned around where he sat, his eyes landing on Gintoki.

Gintoki smiled sheepishly as he sat down nearby. He was wearing a dark yukata properly over his usual black attire, not as much skin showing as usual, but Yamazaki had been right in his reports. Something was wrong, really wrong. Gintoki's jaw was clean-cut, sharper than Hijikata ever remembered it being, and his shoulders were thinner. There were bruises in various stages of healing coloring his neck and forearms, his fingers interlaced together in his lap trembling. Hijikata analyzed him quickly and discreetly, but Gintoki had seen.

Gintoki wasn't even trying to hide it.

“Oi, I come to visit and you look me up like that?” Gintoki asked, his voice normal and light and playful. “What the hell?”

“You look like shit.” Hijikata shot back, teeth grit. “You in trouble?”

“Right to it, then.” Gintoki laughed mirthlessly. Hijikata suddenly craved a cigarette.

“Odd Jobs.” Hijikata warned. He didn't feel like this was a good time to start joking, to make Gintoki feel like he could laugh and get away with _whatever_ this was. Hijikata thought back on one of Yamazaki's report, remembered reading about Gintoki's family, how he brushed them off. “I've heard a lot of concerns about you lately. I don't know why you came tonight, but maybe now is a good time to talk? Are you having trouble?”

“Actually, I'm here about this. I need to… I...” Gintoki said, and his voice sounded awkward. Very awkward. He chuckled nervously, his eyes fluttering just below Hijikata's gaze. He had always been bad with words, had always had a hard time expressing his personal problems. “Um...”

Hijikata took a second to analyze the situation, to analyze what Gintoki had just _said._ _I'm here about this._

“You're here about the bruises?” Hijikata didn't like leading the conversation, usually liked to poke and prod the men he interrogated, goading them into spilling the beans themselves. Because sometimes they had things to say that Hijikata hadn't even thought of. But without some direction, Gintoki would avoid the situation completely. He needed a starting point, needed a little truth to admit to and get him going.

Gintoki smiled, his eyes dropping lower. He looked so sad. “I know… Yamazaki has been following me. I assume you know… _things._ ”

Hijikata gazed at him carefully, knowing that one wrong word would close Gintoki back up.

“I know things.” Hijikata said confidently. He knew _some_ things, but he also hadn't finished Yamazaki's report. But if there was anything major, Yamazaki would have told him? Right? _Right?_ Worst-case scenario, Hijikata would have to make educated guesses and hope he was close enough to hit the nail on the head.

Gintoki glanced down when Hijikata said it. He looked unsure, but his hands tightened together. He was going to talk, and Hijikata was going to listen to every word he said and between the lines as well.

“I don't want to make a big deal out of this.” Gintoki said, his gaze still down. “I don't want to worry anyone but...”

“Odd Jobs, we're already worried.” Hijikata said. He scooted a little closer, his eyes narrowing. If he had known last week, he already would have started to interview everyone Gintoki knew, to try and put the pieces together to get to the bottom of this. He had just thought Gintoki had gotten into some trouble. Nothing serious.

Perhaps, Hijikata had been mistaken.

“It's okay.” Gintoki said. He glanced up then, his eyes a little dull, his voice a little soft. “I just… don't know how to fix this, and you of all people should know how.”

He was testing him, Hijikata realized. If Hijikata didn't start throwing out specifics, Gintoki would gloss over the details Hijikata wasn't aware of. If Hijikata proved he had no clue what was leaving Gintoki looking so fragile and worn, Gintoki might just make something lesser up and then disappear without a trace. Gintoki was trying. He was trying to reach out, but if Hijikata didn't give him something to grab onto immediately, Gintoki would just fall back down to where he had come from.

 _Analyze the data. He's giving you clues, wearing clues. He wants help, so make sure you ask the right questions._ Hijikata swallowed thickly, wishing he had been quicker to read the report.

“Can I see your arms?” Hijikata asked. If he exposed the truth right away, Gintoki might stay, might talk. He reached out for Gintoki's arms, sliding Gintoki's sleeves up to look at the marred skin. Cuts and bruises littered his pale skin, and the harder Hijikata looked, the more he _knew_. He knew what this was. He dealt with this frequently. He could recognize continuous physical abuse when he saw it.

“Odd Jobs.” Hijikata asked, his voice serious. His eyes raised to the marks hardly visible on Gintoki's neck. Fingers. “Have you found yourself in a troublesome relationship?”

Gintoki didn't respond. His eyes remained half-lidded, but they did start to shine under the light. Hijikata's throat closed. He never dreamed Gintoki would come to him like this, this open, this trusting, this forward. Something must have happened, something major. _Is he desperate? What has he been going through!?_

“ _Gintoki_.”

“What if...” Gintoki said, his voice starting to sound strained. “What if I...”

The first tear fell. He glanced away so Hijikata couldn't see it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously. Hijikata scooted closer, taking Gintoki's other hand into his, flipping it palm up, ignoring the marks.

“What if...” Gintoki tried again, eyes still averted. “What if there's nothing...”

“There's something you can do.” Hijikata said, and he felt like he was having deja vu. “There's always something you can do, and you have so many people who love you and will help you. Gintoki, look at me.”

Gintoki glanced over, one of his eyebrows twitching. Fat tears leaked from his eyes, his bottom lip quivering. He looked away again, pulling a hand from Hijikata's when he quietly gasped. “There's nothing… I can do...”

“ _Gintoki_.” Hijikata said, his hand going to Gintoki's face because one second, Gintoki had been holding it all together, and then the next, he was breaking apart, slipping through his fingers like spilled water. “You're going to be okay. Just talk to me, okay? Look at me?”

Gintoki glanced back to him, sniffling. His jaw was clenched, his eyes wet and red. He looked miserable. Helpless. And yet his lips remained sealed.

“Gintoki?” Hijikata asked, worry visible on his face. “How long has this been going on for?”

Gintoki swallowed before blandly giving Hijikata the answer. “Months.”

“How many?” Hijikata asked, his voice slipping into his neutral work tone.

“Since February.” Gintoki choked out, his hand going back to cover his mouth. Hijikata reached forward, taking Gintoki's wrist and gently dragging his hand back down to his lap. “And… you… I can't… I can't stop it… there's nothing...”

“Gintoki.” Hijikata tried again, his heart quickening in his chest because he had _never_ seen Gintoki cry, let alone this hard. “I can help you. I can keep you safe.”

“But you can't.” Gintoki sobbed. He dropped his face into his hands. Hijikata scooted closer, a hand on Gintoki's back, rubbing comforting circles. “You _can't._ ”

“Just give me a name.” Hijikata whispered. “Just tell me who and I can file the report. A restraining order. I'll fucking arrest him if I have to, I will do what needs to be done. You just need to speak up.”

Gintoki sat up, hand still over his eyes. “Will you hate me if I don't tell you?”

Hijikata wanted to say _no_ , but he didn't want to encourage Gintoki's silence. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, reached forward, both hands sliding through the hair at Gintoki's temple. He leaned in, bumping his forehead into Gintoki's. “Gintoki, please. Please let me help you.”

Gintoki's breath shuddered. He opened his mouth. Hesitantly, his tone robotic, he told Hijikata everything like he had rehearsed the lines. Like he had spoken them before. And Hijikata suddenly understood.

 _He's not okay. He hasn't been okay in a long time,_ _and he's right._

_There might be nothing anyone can do._

_**[July 3] Gintoki** _

Gintoki knew what was about to happen the second Kagura answered the front door.

“Yeah, sure!” Kagura yelled, suddenly excited. “Sadaharu! Let's go for a walk!”

It had only been seven hours since Gintoki had cried his eyes out in front of Hijikata and then left, had only been seven hours since Gintoki had fucked up once again. He was lying on his couch with JUMP over his face, and suddenly the backs of his eyes started to burn. Suddenly, his vision was blurry, his heart thrumming nervously in his chest as the front door closed. Kagura was gone, Sadaharu yipping excitedly outside, and someone else was inside his house quietly taking off his shoes.

Gintoki was going to cry before it even happened. He placed the JUMP over his face, hoping that maybe if he closed his eyes the tears wouldn't fall, and if he laid still enough, the man would go away. Frustration and anger welled up in his chest because it didn't matter what he did, it didn't matter how hard he _tried_ , he just couldn't find a way to end this. Couldn't make it stop.

He was going to die, and he was going to make sure of it.

“Gintoki.”

Gintoki didn't respond to his name. He didn't flinch, didn't even breathe, which was probably what gave him away. A second later, the JUMP was being lifted from his face and tossed aside onto the coffee table. Gintoki glanced up blearily, his face scrunched and eyes already wet, glaring up at the man with straight golden hair. Those stupid blue eyes, that stupid charming smile. This fucker had gotten some of his brainwashing powers back, and Gengai didn't even know. If only Gintoki knew how they worked, if there was a reserve, a limit, some sort of loophole. If only Gintoki was sneakier telling his friends, figured out how Kintoki knew exactly when Gintoki was blabbing about what was happening to him.

There was nothing Gintoki could do.

“How's your morning?” Kintoki asked just as Gintoki sat up to face him. “Mine's been pretty shitty. Had to go wipe two memories already, I'm kind of getting sick of this, Gintoki. Why'd you blab to the police officers this time? You know I'll just erase his memory, so why do you keep doing it?”

Gintoki swallowed thickly, his gaze dark. “Don't you have something better to do?”

“You're right.” Kintoki said, and no, this wasn't what Gintoki had meant. Kintoki stood up, untying the belts for his yukata. “I do have something better to do. I noticed you don't learn very well, Gintoki. It's really simple. Keep your fucking mouth shut. It's not that hard? I already know you _want_ me to punish you, but if you want me to do this, then you need to keep your mouth shut. Or is that part of the game?”

“There is no game.” Gintoki said, but he knew deep inside, he was the cause of this. “I get it, you can stop now. I was wrong.”

“I know. I was made in your image, but I was made to see your flaws.” Kintoki reminded, snagging his hand under Gintoki's jaw and hauling him to his feet. “I was given your insecurities, your faults, your secret, self-sabotaging desires, and then inverted. So I know, Gintoki. I know what you're feeling. You just didn't know what you wanted, but at least now, I hope you do.”

Kintoki shoved him, and Gintoki silently tripped a few steps. Gintoki's breath shuddered out of him, his thoughts stuck in a loop. The guilt. The self-blame. The need to atone for his own sins. He had wanted this, wanted to restore the karma.

But now Gintoki wanted to be free. He wanted to be happy again, to stop seeing the people he cared about looking at him with sad, worried eyes.

“Hands on your desk.” Kintoki said, a smile spreading across his lips.

“No.” Gintoki said, because at the end of the day, defying Kintoki was all he could do.

And just like that, Gintoki found himself bent forward over his own office desk with a hand fisted much too tightly into his hair. His right cheek slammed into the cold wood, both eyes squeezed shut and wet. Sticky blood was trickling from his chin, the combination of a split lip, bloody nose, and a bitten tongue. His face was on fire, the heat of fresh bruises exploding over both of his eyes and nose, leaving his vision blurry. He gasped, regretting his decision once again, knowing he would still choose this option again and again in the future.

His right arm was twisted painfully behind his back, a low moan escaping his throat as Kintoki leaned down over him, lips ghosting over his ear. He pressed his chest into Gintoki's back to keep him down, heavier and sturdier than his thin stature suggested. “Why do you always have to fight me? You know, maybe if you just give in, things will change. And deep down, we both know this is what you want. You hate yourself. I get it. I know.”

Gintoki grabbed onto Kintoki's wrist in a futile attempt to try and wrestle off the hand fisted painfully into his hair. This, this whole scenario, was routine by now.

Kintoki laughed, the sound shuddering down to Gintoki's gut, making him feel like a rabbit caught in a snare. He struggled harder, the desk lurching as he attempted to make more room for himself so he could wiggle free or get in a good kick, memories of damp cells and sadistic guards encouraging him to try his best before the worst would happen. Kintoki's grip on his hair only intensified, skin searing as a whole tuft threatened to be ripped out.

Kintoki let go of Gintoki's right arm in favor of groping at Gintoki's hip, sliding it firmly under Gintoki's yukata to push the fabric off his ass and out of the way. He was still fully clothed, but he suddenly felt so exposed with his yukata hanging off his left hip, bouncing with every movement. He was panting into the desk already, a pool of blood dripping from his mouth, silently praying that Kintoki wouldn't continue, wouldn't violate him, wouldn't knock him down further than he already was.

They both knew Kintoki was going to do it, and they both knew Gintoki was going to let him.

“You know, I'm doing this because I was programmed to. Because you left the idea in me, because your desire to be punished is so disgustingly strong. You're the one who wants to suffer, I'm just indulging you.” Kintoki said. He fisted his fingers into Gintoki's pants, aggressively tugging them halfway down his thighs. “This will stop with _you_ , Gintoki. Not me.”

Gintoki groaned, his hands still trying to pry Kintoki's grip out of his hair, trying to ignore his rapid heart rate and the shudder that passed over him when Kintoki's cold hand landed on his bare hip. He was crying already, tears streaming down his face, wondering why. _Why._ What was he supposed to do? Was he just supposed to live with this now?

“You're a piece of shit.” Gintoki hissed, both of his palms flat on the desk now, bracing himself for the worst. “Fucking piece of shit.”

“Takes one to know one.” Kintoki said, his hand disappearing from Gintoki's skin.

Gintoki tensed, expecting to be slapped, but the sound of a zipper being dropped was deafening. A cold fear knotted itself in Gintoki's stomach, his body automatically tensing. Gintoki needed to go. He needed to go and disappear for a few days, go and start a new life somewhere else where Kintoki couldn't get him.

“I hope you learned something from this, Gintoki, though I know you're slow to new ideas.” Kintoki said, shifting behind Gintoki before pressing against him. His rock hard member slid between Gintoki's closed thighs, painfully grinding up into Gintoki, making him aware of just how thick and heavy he really was. He was already wet and slippery, was ready to go at a moment's notice.

The androids dick was really just a steel road covered in a leathery material resembling skin, but the thought of that only made Gintoki sick. Gintoki's stomach lurched, suddenly remembering bad encounters with sword hilts and other solid objects. If he'd eaten breakfast, it would have come back up.

“I'm actually kind of glad you're so stubborn. Brings me enjoyment, at least.” Kintoki laughed. He slapped his cold wet hand onto Gintoki's ass, his fingers instantly sliding between his soft cheeks and plunging in. Gintoki's whine almost drowned out Kintoki's next words, the sudden burn of two thick fingers opening him up taking him back to less savory places.

Gintoki squeezed his eyes shut, his hands grasping the edge of his desk with white knuckles as Kintoki quickly worked his fingers in and out, the tips of his fingers curling each time he slid out, pulling and padding uncomfortably along Gintoki's inner walls.

Gintoki's gasped when Kintoki pulled his fingers out just to slide three back in. Kintoki's hands were too cold, Gintoki's head was still spinning, his face burning, the strain on his hair sending a headache ricocheting through his entire skull. Without warning, three fingers immediately turned into four, the cry finally tearing from Gintoki's throat, more tears escaping his clenched eyelids. He moaned as Kintoki dragged his curled fingers out before plunging back in, his fingers rock solid.

Gintoki was suddenly aware that he was trembling. He gripped the desk tighter as he pushed away his thoughts and memories, focused on his breathing as his eyes turned to the patterns in the wood. _It'll be okay. You'll either die and never wake up, or you'll leave. Both are good options._ _In the end, this is your fault. The punishment you craved._

Kintoki laughed, his hand disappearing from Gintoki's hip. Kintoki suddenly closed the distance he had created, shoving himself into Gintoki quick and hard. His erection was painfully solid and his thrust had more weight than Gintoki could ever be prepared for. Kintoki's hand slammed down on Gintoki's hip with a vice grip as the whole desk rocked forward, Gintoki's heart rate pulsing in his ears as he cried out, his body flashing hot. Kintoki rocked into him heavily, clenched fist pressing down into Gintoki's head to keep him in place, every quick thrust shooting pain up the base of Gintoki's spine. The slap of skin was louder than Gintoki's strangled groans, the telltale burn of bruises spread down the backs of his parting thighs as Kintoki quickly sped up.

Gintoki held on, splinters in his fingers and tears soaking his cheeks as he endured. He held out the first minute before a sob left him, the android showing no signs of finishing after the second.

“Just think,” Kintoki panted with a laugh, “you're the one who secretly wanted this. Wanted someone to look at you, control you. Reign you in and hold you down and make you a good boy. Unfortunately, I just had to be the one to know.”

Gintoki moaned miserably, trying to block out Kintoki's voice, trying to keep himself calm.

Kintoki lasted too long. Gintoki was shuddering and drenched in sweat when Kintoki finally slowed down with a loud moan. His last thrusts were painfully jarring, the android slamming into Gintoki with enough strength to knock Gintoki breathless. On Kintoki's last stroke he folded, chest pressing into Gintoki's back as he bit down into Gintoki's neck, filling Gintoki up with a cold and sticky substance that left Gintoki shaking.

Panting, into Gintoki's ear, Kintoki weakly pushed into him with one more cold squirt, his hips still gently rocking from his orgasm. Gintoki's heavy breath came out in quick shudders, his grip still locked on the edge of the desk.

Kintoki didn't immediately move, but his hand in Gintoki's hair loosened. He took a minute to recover before he started to shift, his softened length still too hard inside of Gintoki's raw insides.

Gintoki moaned once the android was out of him. Warmed liquid immediately seeped out of him, trailing down his legs. Gintoki leaned over the edge of his desk and puked, the desk the only thing supporting him as he choked up everything he could.

Kintoki laughed. When Gintoki glanced his way at the sound, he caught Kintoki tucking himself into his pants with a look of disgust, his crotch covered in blood. Gintoki retched again before letting himself sink to the floor, carefully folding his legs under him until he was on the ground, catching his breath. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, doing his best to ignore the pain.

“Are you going to blab again?” Kintoki asked. He squatted down in front of Gintoki, pleased with himself. Something had gone seriously wrong when Gengai fixed him, and Gengai seemed to be the last person Gintoki could go to for help.

Gintoki jolted, tears still streaming down his eyes. He swallowed, trying to force his voice out. It came out soft and shaky, but he didn't falter. “Probably.”

Kintoki scoffed at the response, but watched in amusement as Gintoki got up shakily. That damn smirk never left his face as Gintoki leaned against his desk and struggled to get his pants up, his belt slung loosely through the loops. He fixed his yukata and just like that, he looked normal, aside from the bruises on his face and the tears tracking down his skin. Gintoki was sure he could pass as fine. No one seemed to notice anyway, because Kintoki had control of them.

Not that anyone would care.

“Leave.” Gintoki said, his voice shuddering out of him. “Please.”

Kintoki smirked, his eyes alive and excited. “Sure. You know, this all comes down to you. You're in control of this, Gintoki. I know what you want, but you don't seem to know yourself. It's rather amusing.”

“Shut up.” Gintoki looked away, moping a hand across his soaked cheek. He didn't know what that meant. He had bared his soul to his friends multiple times, had told them what Kintoki was doing to him, how it had started right after Gengai had patched him up.

 _But you never told them you wanted it, and Kintoki knows that. That deep down, you're really this fucking miserable and you want to be saved. But you never told your friends that, you just showed them the surface of the problem. You didn't show them_ _**you** _ _._

Gintoki knew what he needed, knew how to stop this. He just wasn't strong enough to admit it yet.


End file.
